Hands of Red Clay
Village of Ice

Beyond These Walls

Suzanne

In a Fugue

Hands of Red Clay

The Mentor

A Ladder Will Reach You

The Quintessential Miscreant

Almost a Man in the Hood

Technobank

Restlessness

No Such Thing

An Uneasy Recovery

The Light of Day

Hands of Red Clay

Sophia crafted the hands of red clay:
hours of cultivation perfected them
before kiln dried, manicured, and baked again.

For years the hands rested on a shelf
next to porcelain figurines and pottery pieces.
Sofia adored the hands of red clay
allowed her students to critique
but never handle them.
Many a pupil came and went
each intrigued by its veins and lifelines
palms and knuckles
nails and cuticle
but none exact in finding the uniqueness
which made them untouchable.

Some surmised the clay was dug
from an ancient Indian burial ground
others were convinced the creation was molded
from the hands of her late husband
while still another camp concluded
that the blood of man flowed inside them.

The hands were crafted of red clay:
hours of cultivation perfected them
while years of incertitude
made them incarnate.

Copyright, 1996, by J. Matthew Waters
The Next Poem is The Mentor
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